


A Hiccstrid Compendium

by James_Rabbit



Category: DreamWorks Dragons (Cartoon), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Sex, Anthology, F/M, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sharing a Bed, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:34:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26956651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/James_Rabbit/pseuds/James_Rabbit
Summary: A collection of smutty one-shots.  All Hiccstrid, and all (unless indicated otherwise) set in different continuities.(Removed from my FFnet profile under a different name and reposted here)
Relationships: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III/Astrid Hofferson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	A Hiccstrid Compendium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: After the twins destroy Astrid’s hut, she’s forced to share with Hiccup. The only question is: who gets the bed? (Set during RTTE, pre-blindsided)

“Alright, walk me through this again,” Hiccup commanded with a sigh, glancing over Ruffnut and Tuffnut’s shoulders at the smoldering ruin of the hut behind them. The red-orange glow of the evening sun dipping below the horizon behind the wreckage made for a rather striking silhouette. “Why exactly did you two think playing ‘ _ Toss the Torch _ ’ was a good idea?”

“Especially directly over our base.” Astrid added from beside him, a scowl firmly affixed to her face. Unfortunately for her, her axe had been a casualty of the explosion that had taken out her hut, else she’d be brandishing it threateningly. It was, however, fortunate for the twins in that moment, even if they didn’t seem to realize it.

“You see, H,” Tuffnut began, gesticulating with broad, fluid waves of his arms, “Toss the Torch is a time-honoured Thorston tradition, passed down from generation to generation as a sign of our family’s prestige and honour.”

“Yeah,” Ruffnut chimed in beside her brother, mimicking his movements, “You wouldn’t understand the noble sport’s storied history.”

“And you couldn’t have carried it out over the ocean that surrounds us in  _ every  _ direction, because…?” Hiccup prodded with a roll of his eyes.

“Sorry H, that’s against the rules of Toss the Torch,” the male twin stated with a vehement shake of the head.

“Rule number 3 in the rulebook of Toss the Torch,” his sister supplied, “‘The tossing of the torch may not be conducted over an open body of water.”

“Only densely populated settlements, fields of extremely dry grass, and forests during an extended drought,” Tuffnut finished with a satisfied smile.

“There’s a rulebook for ‘Toss the Torch’?,” Astrid asked, cocking an eyebrow incredulously.

“It’s not necessarily a physical book with pages and writing, per se,” Ruffnut replied with a shrug.

“It’s more of a metaphorical one,” Tuffnut explained.

Astrid turned to face Hiccup with an unimpressed expression. The one-legged viking resisted the urge to reach up with both hands and drag them down his face.

“Look, whatever, it’s done now,” he stated, waving a hand dismissively. “The end result’s the same; Astrid’s hut is gone.”

“Doesn’t help that I was keeping canisters of zippleback gas in there,” Astrid harrumphed. Hiccup could almost physically feel her frown in his direction. He  _ had  _ been the one to ask her to collect the gas, he supposed.

“Ah, that would explain the explosion,” Tuffnut pondered, tapping a finger against his chin.

“Yeah, I thought that was weird,” Ruffnut added, following his example, “Awesome, but weird.”

Hiccup squinted in the dim light at the twins. The sun had fully dipped out of the sky, and the faint traces of its warm light were rapidly morphing into cold twilight. Visibility was reducing with each passing minute, and he could feel his eyelids grow heavy.

“Whatever,” he muttered, suppressing a yawn. “I’m way too tired to deal with this right now. Astrid and Ruff can share your guys’ hut. Tuff, I guess you’re bunking with me.”

“Aww yeah! Can you spell sleepover?!” Tuffnut shouted, pumping his arms in the air.

“No, actually, I can not,” Ruffnut replied, scrunching her eyebrows together, “I can never remember if there are two Ps or just one.”

Hiccup watched as Astrid balked comically at the twins, before spinning to face him.

“Uh, no,” She stated firmly, stomping her foot and crossing her arms vehemently to drive home her consternation, “There’s no way I’m sharing a room with either of these muttonheads.”

Hiccup sighed heavily, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Then what do  _ you  _ suggest, Astrid?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow at the blonde.

“They can keep their own smelly hut to themselves,” She replied, casting a disdainful glare at the twins, who had begun bickering about the possibility of there being a third P in the word ‘sleepover’. “If I have to share with anyone, it’s going to be you.”

Hiccup jolted at that proclamation. “Er… come again?” he stammered.

“I’m not sharing with either of the twins, or else I’ll wake up with both my eyebrows missing,” She supplied evenly. “And I’m  _ absolutely  _ not sharing with Snotlout.”

“Absolutely not,” Hiccup agreed with a shudder.

“And I know Fishlegs won’t, because apparently ‘Meatlug gets  _ jealous’ _ ,” she concluded, placing a hand on her hip and giving him a pointed stare. “Since Heather doesn’t have a hut yet, and isn’t even here right now, the only other person is you. Ergo, I’m sharing with you.”

Hiccup brought a fist to his chin, trying to come up with an alternative. But try as he might, he couldn't. The clubhouse was open-air, and would be too cold at night. The dragon stables smelled like… well, dragons. And the fish that they ate. He knew Astrid would put up a fight at that suggestion; one he was simply too exhausted to have this late in the day.

So, with a shrug, he relented to her point, despite his internal voice screaming at him that such an arrangement would be improper.

A few minutes later, he stood on the upper level of his hut, quickly pulling on his sleepwear; a loose-fitting tunic and pair of leggings that were both comfortable and warm. Pulling the tunic over his head, he ran a hand around his torso, straightening the fabric so that it wouldn’t bunch up awkwardly in his sleep.

As he was about to turn towards his bed to turn in for the night, a golden head of hair popped up over the top of the nearby ladder.

“Hey,” Astrid greeted, pulling herself up into the upper loft that served as his bedroom. “You’re dressed?”

“Er yeah,” he replied, noting the borrowed shirt she sported. Since her clothing had been destroyed alongside nearly all of her other possessions on the Edge, he’d lent her some of his own. Of course, the shirt she wore was too big on her as a result. He tried not to stare too closely at the exposed shoulder he noted poking through the oversized (on her, at least) neck hole.

Tried.

A sharp pain erupted from his shoulder, startling him.

“What the…” He stammered, clueing into Astrid’s outstretched fist. “You punched me.”

“I punched you,” the blonde affirmed, looking rather proud of herself.

“What for?” Hiccup gasped, rubbing his arm. Already, he the pins-and-needles sensation of feeling returning to the area was becoming uncomfortable.

“You were staring off into space,” she replied chipperly.

Hiccup wasn’t dumb enough to correct her.

“I had to get your head out of the clouds somehow,” she continued, smiling cheerily as if she’d done him a favour by causing him bodily harm.

He scowled at her in return. It was all for show of course. He understood perfectly well that punches like those were her way of showing affection. It was just so Astrid, that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

If she actually  _ wanted  _ to hurt him, he’d be unconscious.

He’d happily take her playful, if aggressive, banter any day.

“By assaulting me,” he deadpanned, suppressing a grin of his own.

“Oh, get over yourself,” she scoffed, nudging him with her elbow, “I barely touched you.”

Hiccup laughed.

“The pain is excruciating,” he proclaimed, pretending to stagger from his supposed injury. “It might have to be amputated. Oh, how cruel of you to divest me of one of my few remaining limbs!”

Astrid merely rolled her eyes. “Whimp!” she jeered.

He stuck his tongue out in response, earning a chortle in return. She opened her mouth to say more, only for a yawn to tear its way forth instead.

“Well!” She declared, easily striding past him, purposefully jostling him with her shoulder along the way. “I’m beat, so… g’night!”

With that, she spun around to face him, before, with an impish smirk, she threw herself backwards. With a plop, she landed perfectly in the middle of the mattress of his bed, still beaming up at him.

The jump had thrown the bottom hem of the shirt upwards, revealing part of her smooth, well-toned stomach. His eyes, acting on their own, trailed the muscled dips of her perfectly sculpted abdominals down to her hips, where the beige of a linen undergarment clung snugly.

“Why aren’t you wearing leggings?” he squawked in bewilderment at the sight. He was certain the blood rushing to his face would pop his head clean off.

“Oh!” Astrid yelped, quickly tugging the shirt down to cover her underclothes. “The leggings you gave me were too big. They wouldn’t stay up. And I’m not wearing mine to bed; I was out training all day, and they need a wash.”

She wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue to illustrate her disgust at the prospect, and he found himself chuckling at her antics. His fried nerves were slowly calming down.

Still, he turned away from her. The sight of her bare legs poking out from the borrowed tunic was enough to make his head spin. The bottom edge only covered up to the middle of her thighs; her slim, but thoroughly muscled thighs that he’d dreamed of running his-

_ No, don’t go there! _ He berated himself.

“There’s a bundle of furs down below,” He said, praying that Astrid couldn’t detect the hitch in his voice. He needed something, anything, to take his mind off of the smooth, tantalizing flesh splayed out before him. “They’re for camping, but you can use them here on the floor if you want.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Astrid replied with a hum. “Why don’t you take the furs, and I’ll stay here on the bed, where it’s comfy.”

Hiccup cast a sidelong stare in her direction. She returned it with a smirk, as if challenging him to disagree.  _ Challenge accepted _ .

“Nope, try again,” He replied, crossing his arms playfully. “That’s my bed, so you’ll just have to tough it out.”

“Is it really though?” she coyly responded back. “I don’t see your name on it anywhere.”

“As a matter of fact,” he shot back, gesturing vaguely behind her, “It’s right there on the headboard. H.H. Those are my initials. Hiccup Haddock.”

She tilted her head upwards to peer at the carved letters he’d indicated. Indeed, in a bold, rigid font, he’d carefully engraved a pair of Hs into the rich oak wood of the bed frame.

As he grinned at her revelation, his eyes unconsciously raked her frame. The loose shirt had settled into the valley between her breasts, perfectly outlining the forms of those forbidden mounds of flesh. He swallowed tightly, noting how gravity pulled them downwards, away from each other. How supple and soft they must feel. How yielding they would be in his hands if-

_ Stop that! _

Wrenching his attention away from her chest, his eyes trailed up to her throat, extended outwards by the angle of her head. That flawless column he’d dreamed many nights of tasting with his teeth and his tongue-

_ No!  _ He really needed to end this line of thinking. Astrid was his friend. His best friend. And her friendship meant the world to him. He couldn’t ruin something so important over something as stupid as his uncontrolled libido.

“Hmmm…” Astrid’s voice rang out, pulling him from his inner turmoil. “Well, I guess I’ll have to fix that, won’t I?”

“What do you-,” he began, only to pause in shock as she reached over to his bedside table, where he kept his drawing supplies.

He liked to draw before he slept. It helped to clear his often busy head, by placing his runaway thoughts on paper.

Of course now, he realized, watching in horror as Astrid wrapped her fingers around the knife he used to sharpen his stick of charcoal, that such an arrangement was now to his detriment.

Before he could react, the knife bit into the wood of the headboard. With a deft flick of her wrist, an arch was etched, connecting the tops of the first H.

“That’s my bed!” he cried, flailing his arms out in distress.

“Not anymore, it’s not,” Astrid replied smugly, tossing the knife back onto the table. “A.H. Astrid Hofferson. My name, my bed.”

“Oh really?” he scoffed, still hysterical over the fact that she had  _ carved  _ her  _ initials  _ into his  _ bed _ .

His bed! Her initials! Carved! With a knife!

And she was still smirking at him!

“Looks like it’s the floor for you,” She crowed happily, “Sorry, Hiccup.”

His eyes narrowed. “You think this is funny, huh?”

She said nothing in response. She didn’t need to. The wicked glint in her sky blue eyes said it all. She found it hilarious, like some kind of game.

Well, if this was a game, then he’d happily play along.

Tensing for action, he stared her down. And then dove.

Giggling, she pulled herself easily out of the way. Catching himself on his hands, he crawled towards her, adamant on pushing her from the bed.

Only, she anticipated his moves far too quickly. Rolling to the side, she wrapped her arms around his chest and clung to his back, pressing all of her weight down on him. His own arms nearly gave out at the pressure.

Clearly, he needed to rethink his plan of approach. She had the strength and speed advantage. There was no way he could beat her in a straight up fight. So he had to play unfair.

Purposefully collapsing one of his arms, he rolled, quickly pinning her behind him. It wouldn’t last long, he knew. He could already feel her squirming against his back to break free.

Carefully reaching a hand down, he took hold of one of her bare feet.

“What are you doing, Haddock?” she growled dangerously in his ear.

“Winning,” he simply responded.

And then, he unleashed his vengeance.

“AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!” Astrid shrieked, dissolving into peels of intense laughter as he began to tickle the sole of her foot mercilessly.

“Give up?” he crowed.

“ _ Ahah- _ not on-  _ ha-  _ not on you life-  _ ha-  _ Haddock!” She wheezed out between ragged gasps of laughter.

Suddenly, he felt a finger being sharply jabbed into his side, before-  _ oh gods _ ! She was tickling him back!

Flinching away, he instinctively let go of her foot.

Astrid of course, wasted no time capitalizing on her newfound freedom, and pounced, landing on top of him, his back to the mattress.

With a cackle of sheer glee, Astrid tugged the cuffs of his long-sleeved tunic, pulling them past his hand. Twisting her shoulder, she drove downward, striking him square in the chest with her entire body, effectively winding him.

As he gasped for breath, she took the opportunity to exploit his stunned state. With nimble fingers, she tied the ends of his sleeves together into a tight knot. A knot he was unamused to find when he regained his bearings.

“Oh, ha-ha!,” he snarked, rolling his eyes up at the girl who straddled his hips, a victorious simper on her lips.

“Hofferson wins this round!” She whooped. “Sorry, Haddock, looks like it’s the floor for you tonight.”

His deadpan glare took on heat. He wouldn’t be counted out so easily!

“Oh, I wouldn’t count on that!” he quipped back, thrashing around in a desperate attempt to pull the sleeves loose.

Only, they didn’t budge.

“You were saying?” she purred, that damnable smirk still fixed on her face.

_ Of course _ , he thought with a huff. This was just like the rest of the tussle. He knew Astrid was much stronger than he was, so beating her in a battle of brawn was simply not going to end well for him. He had to use his brain if he wanted to stand any kind of chance.

The shirt was no different. He clearly couldn’t  _ force  _ his way out of the makeshift bindings. That much was apparent from his futile struggles. He had to  _ outsmart  _ the shirt. That shouldn’t be too hard; it was a shirt, for Thor’s sake!

With a growl, he pulled his arms out of the shirt before quickly shucking it off and tossing it to the side. If he couldn’t untie the sleeves, he’d remove them from the equation completely!

Internally, he hurrahed at his enginuity, and resumed the struggle to extricate himself from beneath the slim blonde viking. Only to realize with a jolt as her hands came to land on his bare chest, just what a position he’d left himself in. 

An involuntary sigh escaped him at the warmth of her palms pressed against his skin. The feeling was… indescribable. The rough calluses on her fingers, honed from years of rigorous practice with her axe, scraped his skin, leaving short trails of fire in their wake.

It was like fire being lit in a dark cave. Before this point, he’d been completely blind. And now, thanks to the sensations on his chest, he could finally  _ see _ . He never wanted to go back into the darkness.

And then with a bodily shove, he found himself being shoved even more harshly into the mattress below. Right, he was in the middle of an impromptu wrestling match. This was  _ not  _ the time for daydreaming.

Astrid let out a playful laugh, and he found a chuckle of his own join in. Oh, it was  _ on _ , Hofferson! This Hiccup wasn’t going to lose.

With a lunge, he reached up to grab at her, only for her to effortlessly bat the hand away. Not that he should have expected any difference. Time for a new plan of attack. She was right-handed, while he was left-handed. He could work with that; force her to-

His hyperactive mind ground to a halt as the hand she’d used to deflect his own returned to his torso. He hoped she hadn’t heard him whimper. That would be embarrassing. And impossible to explain.

_ Head in the game, Hiccup _ , he chastised himself. Back to planning.  _ Something about dominant hands _ .

Okay, let’s try that again. He lashed out with his right arm, fully expecting her to block it. She did.  _ Perfect _ .

The fight for dominance began as she wrestled to reign his one arm in with both of her own. Once she was preoccupied, his stronger left hand reached out and grabbed hold of the scruff of her tunic.

_ Success _ !

Now to make her regret her mistake. He quickly began to tug the tunic towards himself, in order to throw her off balance. As he did so, she dragged herself backwards to resist his efforts. 

His calculations hadn’t taken into consideration just how loose the clothing was. With a heave of effort from them both, the fabric in his hand was yanked one way, while she was pulled in the other.

Blinking in shock, he stared, uncomprehending at the empty shirt he now held in his hand. Turning his head jerkily, he came face-to-face with her  _ breasts _ .

Her beautiful, perfectly proportioned  _ breasts _ . Her round, milky  _ breasts _ , heaving with her panting breath. Her incredible, capped with pink, button-sized nipples,  _ breasts _ , which  _ jiggled  _ magnificently as she dove back at him, seemingly unaware of her state of undress.

He hastily threw his hands up, mind still reeling from the sight before him, to block her lunge. Only to realize his mistake. With a grunt, he caught her, one hand taking hold of her shoulder, the other falling somewhere much softer.

It was as if for a moment, his senses had heightened. He could distinctly feel his Adam’s apple slide against his throat as he swallowed dryly. Individual beads of sweat on his forehead felt like drops of molten lead as they trailed down his face. And in the palm of his hand, he could count each individual goosebump, each tiny strand of peach fuzz that dotted the supple flesh he unintentionally beheld.

Unintentional or not, a thrill shot through his spine at the sensation. Her breast was just as soft as he’d imagined it would be, yet held more weight than he’d expected. His fingers nervously twitched, and he could feel her nipple stiffen at the prolonged contact.

A lurch of her entire body nearly buckled his outstretched arms. She was still thrashing around, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Did she not realize that she’d been divested of her top? Did she not feel him palming her chest?

Another strong push knocked against him, and he readjusted his grip on her shoulder. As he did, his thumb traced across a jagged white line that passed over her colarbone.

He recalled the day she’d gotten that scar. It had been a few years ago, no more than a few months after Hiccup had lost his leg. They and the rest of the riders had gotten into a skirmish with a band of Outcasts while exploring an uncharted island, and an arrow had struck her. She hadn’t even noticed the arrow until nearly an hour later, when Hiccup had pointed it out after returning to Berk. She had a tendency in battle to block out everything that wasn’t her immediate target.

His gaze fell on her free breast as it swayed enticingly from her movements. Clearly, this was the case here and now.

Suddenly, her hands were on his wrists. With a severe and painful twist, they were both wrenched above his head and pinned down with her twin iron grips.

Her smirk descended to inches above his face, gloating mirthfully down at him. A laugh escaped her lips, and he could feel her breath ghost over his cheeks.In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to wipe that grin away. 

His hands were firmly restrained. He knew there was no way he could break her hold without her allowing it. There was only one thing he could reach her mouth with.

Without fully thinking his actions through, he tilted his head upwards, and captured her lips with his own.

He’d been on the receiving end of her kisses three times. Once when waking up after the fight with the Red Death, once on the following Snoggletog, and once during the Thawfest that had followed that.

Ever since, he’d dreamed many times of initiating kisses of his own; enough times that he’d long since lost count. In all of his reckless imaginings, he’d never anticipated that it would feel so…  _ right _ .

A moan passed through Astrid, as she returned his fervor in kind, her lips sliding pleasurably against his own, and in that moment, he died. He died and went to Valhalla; that was the only possible reasoning behind why he felt so incredibly filled with bliss.

Her hands relaxed and let go of his wrists, slithering down to behind his neck as she deepened the kiss. He felt a tug on his scalp as her fingers threaded through his hair.

Reflexively, his arms fell down to his sides as he allowed his digits to crawl up to her waist.

This was all too much! And yet, it wasn’t nearly enough. He felt her teeth nip gently at his lips and he groaned eagerly in response.

Her chest pressed against his, and he was acutely aware of her hardened nipples trailing across his skin, begging to be touched once more. Dragging his nails tenderly up her side, skating over her ribs, he reached up and pinched one of the sensitive nubs that was driving him crazy.

She sucked in a sharp inhale, breaking the kiss abruptly. His heart leapt when his gaze landed on her lips, slightly swollen and redder than usual. Ocean blue eyes, unfocused from the intensity of their make-out session blinked rapidly, before clearing and peering down at him.

“What the…” She gasped. “Hiccup, where’s my shirt?”

Hiccup swore.  _ Thor _ , he was in trouble.

“Hiccup!” She repeated his name, her ire unmistakable in her words.

“Er… I took it off,” He answered hastily, “But it was an accident! I swear!”

“How do you accidentally take someone’s shirt off?!” She huffed.

He shrugged. Then realizing his hands were still groping her chest, tore them away.

“I don’t know!” He meekly defended himself, trying to keep his eyes locked on her angry visage, and not on anything lower.

With a yelp, he found himself spun onto his stomach, laying face down with one arm wrenched painfully behind him. A firm weight he knew was Astrid pressed down on the middle of his back, keeping him immobile.

“Odin, please make it quick,” he whispered to himself, certain she’d kill him then and there.

But the pain of death never came. He felt his arm being released from her hold. But before he could contemplate her next possible action, he felt a tug on his hips.

“What the Hel are you doing!?” he squawked, attempting to squirm out of her grip. It was an exercise in futility, as she remained perched on his back.

“You took my shirt off; this is only fair, Dragon Boy!” Astrid cackled back at his dismay.

With a firm yank, he found his leggings pulled down past his feet. Somewhere behind him, he heard the soft sound of fabric impacting into a hard surface, and he knew she’d tossed them somewhere on the floor away from the bed. 

He’d forgone underwear that night, as he did every night. He found them unnecessary under his looser sleeping pants, and often bunched up uncomfortably in his sleep. Of course, such a choice had the unintended side-effect of leaving him, embarrassingly, entirely unclothed at that exact moment.

A loud  _ smack  _ echoed through the room, accompanied by a sharp pain erupting from the left cheek of his now naked rear end. The shriek he let out in response was totally manly, and in no way girly in any shape or form. He’d stick to that story until the day he died.

Astrid of course, broke down into a fit of laughter at the noise.

“How is this fair?!” Hiccup protested, feeling both humiliated and exposed.

Another smack, this time on the right cheek, was his response. He craned his head to glare at her over his shoulders.

She, of course found this to be absolutely hilarious, and had no qualms expressing it. A fit of giggles overtook her, and she collapsed uncontrollably onto her side.

Hiccup allowed a sigh of relief to escape him, feeling himself liberated from his previous internment underneath her. Twisting to watch as she rolled onto her back and devolved into hysterics, he let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

So, she wasn’t mad. He’d seen her mad many times before, usually at someone else’s expense, and it always involved a  _ lot  _ more broken limbs. He was alive. Alive, but stripped and mortified.

If only he could pay her back for his current condition. 

And then, an idea struck him. 

As seemed to be the recurring theme of the night, it was not an idea he gave a whole lot of thought to, before simply enacting it.

Disregarding the fact that the removal of his leggings had itself been a retaliation in the first place, he slowly crept towards her prone form. Wriggling his fingers threateningly, he struck. Driving his fingers into her defenseless sides, he began to tickle her.

It had proven to be effective earlier that night, and he saw no reason to stop employing such a proven tactic.

Her laughter intensified exponentially, to the point where she was wheezing. Her face turned a violent shade of red as tears streamed down her face. She flailed her arms in an attempt to push him away, but it was no use. In this position, she was unable to put up any kind of defence against his unrelenting onslaught. 

_ Perfect _ .

Keeping his right hand in place just below her ribs, writhing his fingers to keep her occupied, he slowly drew his left down the smooth plane of her stomach. Every disheveled rhasp she pulled in sent a spasm through her body. He could feel every flex, every shift of her abs beneath the pads of his fingers.

Had Hiccup not been so focused on his objective, he would have paused to appreciate the tactile treat before him. But he was a man with a mission, and that mission was all he was thinking about in that moment.

Coming into contact with a smooth band of fabric, his fingers closed. With an abrupt jerk, he wrenched her panties down her legs. When they caught on her feet, he hastily pulled with both hands, and succinctly divested her of the garment.

Of course, in order to use both of his hands, he was forced to stop tickling her, something she noticed immediately. Taking full advantage of her given reprieve, she languidly drank in lungfuls of air. The pseudo-torture over, she allowed herself to relax. Only to start when her vision came back into focus.

Hiccup towered exultantly over her, her undercloth blatantly dangling from his clenched fist. Seeing her eyes on him, he tossed the skivvies over his shoulder with a cheeky grin.

“HICCUP!” Astrid roared.

The smile slid from Hiccup’s face at the sight of the blonde girl’s enraged expression. “Hey, fair’s fair,” he tried to reason, throwing his hands up in what he hoped was a placating gesture. “You pantsed me!”

Astrid was not placated.

In an instant, Hiccup found himself on his back, Astrid on top of him, as she yanked his arms painfully over his head.

“Gah! I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking!” He yelped.

“You’re damned right, you weren’t,” She replied, readjusting her grip so she could hold his arms down with just her right hand. 

He hissed in discomfort at the angle his shoulders were forced into as she glared down at him. Anticipating a punch to the face, he clamped his eyes tightly closed.

Seeing his reaction, her anger let up. Slightly.

“I might be willing to forgive you,” she pondered, adopting an aloof demeanor. “If, of course you answer a question of mine.”

“What question?” he immediately asked, latching onto his chance to escape her undoubtedly painful punishment.

“Tell me,” she trilled, “who’s the best dragon rider on Berk?”

Hiccup blinked rapidly, having not at all anticipated the question. “Uh… me? Ah! What the-”

He gasped in a mixture of pain and shock when her now free hand grabbed hold of one of his nipples and pinched. Hard. Astrid laughed.

“Who’s the best dragon rider on Berk?” she repeated, her fingers flexing dangerously against his chest.

“Astrid Hofferson is!” He panted.

“Who?” She crooned wickedly, “I didn’t quite hear that.”

“Astrid Hofferson!” he repeated, raising his voice. “Ow! What was that for?” he winced as she delivered another pinch.

“For taking my underwear,” she stated haughtily. Another pinch.

“Gah! Stop that!” Hiccup griped, floundering against her grasp in an attempt to escape.

“Oh no you don’t!” she whooped, leaning forward to press more of her weight against his arms, dishing out a fourth pinch.

Hiccup grumbled at the action. “Just you wait until I break free,” he muttered, casting a glare at the blonde. Of course, the look held no real venom.

Astrid chortled. “You won’t be breaking free on my watch, Haddock,” she jeered back, leaning even further weight onto his arms.

The new position brought her breasts into range of his head. A twitch of arousal ran through him at the sight of them dangling alluringly directly in front of his face. They were so close he could reach out and touch them with his mouth…

So he did. Partly to pay her back for the abuse of his own nipples, and partly, though he tried to convince himself it wasn’t the case, simply because he wanted to. He hadn’t anticipated the moan she made when his teeth latched onto the swollen bud of her left breast.

“H-hiccup!” she panted, startling backwards. Her unplanned spasm sent her lurching backwards to sit haphazardly on his lap.

Neither of them could have anticipated the result of such a move.

With a simultaneous gasp, they both stared wide-eyed at the spot where their groins now connected. His member, which had been painfully erect since their wrestling match began, was now buried completely inside her silken folds.

Hiccup gaped at the point where his flesh merged with hers. It felt incredible; the moist heat pressing in around his shaft from all directions was causing him to tingle with a pleasure he’d never felt before. Sure, he’d touched himself, almost always while thinking about the girl on top of him, yet even that couldn’t compare to the unrelenting euphoria flooding his system.

Perhaps it was the heat that made the difference. Maybe it was just how  _ tight  _ she felt around him. Or, it could be the simple fact that he was balls deep in Astrid; his best friend, who also happened to be the girl he’d been harbouring a crush on since he was a kid.

Oh, Thor, he was  _ inside  _ Astrid!

Panic rose as part of the rapturous fog filling his head lifted. Hastily he shifted to sit up, planning to reverse the inadvertent insertion. This was  _ not  _ how he’d imagined his first time would happen.

Astrid let out a strangled noise of protest at his movements, immediately pressing back down on his shoulders to hold him still.

“Don’t move,” she hissed, wincing.

He instantly stiffened at her expression. “Odin, Astrid, are you alright?” he gasped in worry.

She nodded haltingly. “Just… hold still,” she whispered.

“Sorry,” he panted back, desperately trying not to focus on the occasional spasms he could feel run through the muscles gripping his cock. “Does… does it hurt?” he asked, his voice laced with worry.

“Yeah,” She answered breathily. “Well, no. I…ngh... don’t know, maybe? Ah! It’s just… intense.”

Another contraction of her slick, warm inner walls fluttered along his shaft. He clenched his eyes shut at the sensation; doing everything in his power not to cum right then and there. That would not go over well. Unplanned penetration already crossed way too many lines of social decency as it was; there was no need to add accidental insemination to the mix.

So he began to conjure images in his mind that were decidedly NOT erotic. Like Gobber’s undies. Or Tuffnut picking his nose. Or that one time he’d accidentally walked in on Snotlout taking a bath.

_ Thor, that wasn’t helping! _ Now all he could picture was what it would be like to walk in on Astrid taking a bath; bared skin sleak with soap, rivulets of water down the plane of her chest…

Astrid shifted above him, letting out a whimper in the process. Or had that been him? Perhaps it had been the both of them making the noise at once. He honestly wasn’t sure. All he was certain of in that moment was the immense pleasure consuming him that drowned out all rational thought. So much so that his own hips twitched on their own, seeking a repeat of that same gratifying feeling.

“Gods…” He heard her whisper as she arched her back.

It was at that moment that he realized two things. First, that she was rolling her hips right back, grinding her groin over his. And second, that he never wanted it to stop.

Instinct took over rational thought as he latched onto her thighs, tightly holding on as he desperately began to buck into her, reveling in the little noises she was making; losing himself to the incredible heat enveloping his erection.

“Astrid!” He gasped. It was the only word running through his mind. She was all he knew.

“Hiccup…” She moaned, rocking herself to match his tempo. It was all the response he needed.

He wanted her. He had for a long time. And now he had her, and she sure seemed to want him back. He was  _ not  _ going to let this moment go.

He halted his thrusting, and could immediately feel her begin to squirm on top of him. A low growl of frustration rumbled in her throat

“ _ Don’t _ stop,” she all but snarled down at him, rutting frantically in an attempt to urge him on. “I swear to Thor-,”

He cut her off by harshly flipping her over, rolling on top of her as he did so. In no time, he was spearing back into her like his life depended on it.

He watched, enraptured, at the view his new position afforded him; Astrid trembling, quaking beneath him, her breasts swaying with each forceful thrust he drove into her, her pink lips parted, forming the shape his name over and over. He’d never seen a sight so divine.

Latching his mouth firmly to hers, he kissed her, and she kissed back, her teeth lightly nipping at his mouth. He was consumed by her; every nerve ending in his body alight with the sensation of her. From her soft breasts mashed against his chest, to the fingers she raked over his back, leaving him shivering as her nails gently dragged across his flesh.

As particularly hard thrust drove the breath out of both their lungs, forcing their mouths to separate for air. For a moment, all Hiccup could hear was their combined panting and the rhythmic slapping of skin driving into skin. And then…

“Oh, gods! Hiccup!” Astrid keened, and the sting of her nails biting into his back drew a gasp of his own.

He could feel her inside clamp down on his cock, constricting it, crushing it, embracing it. It was all he could take, and with a shudder, he came. Each spurt of his seed rocked pleasure unlike any he’d ever felt through his entire body, turning his vision white until he knew no more.

When he finally came back to his senses, he found himself sprawled over Astrid, his head nestled comfortably on the pillow beside hers.

“That was…” She murmured, sounding somewhat dazed.

“Wow.” He finished, tilting his head to face her.

“Yeah,” she breathed, turning to meet his gaze. “Wow.”

Grinning his trademark goofy grin, he leaned in to place a peck on her lips.  _ Gods _ , it felt good to finally be able to do that.

“So,” she said, pressing her forehead to his, “I guess this means we won’t have to rebuild my hut.”

“No, I suppose we don’t,” he agreed with a laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As noted in the fic description, this was taken down from my FFnet profile, which is under a different name, and reuploaded here. As I plan on working on more explicit content for other fics, I've decided I want to disassociate my mature content from my other handle, and have everything of that nature posted here instead.
> 
> This is going to be a collection of M-rated one-shots. All Hiccstrid, and all (unless indicated otherwise) set in different continuities. Right now, I have 3 more prompts lined up for future installments (which may take a while as I'm working on other fics from other fandoms at the moment)
> 
> I’m also willing to hear suggestions if you have any. I won’t promise I’ll use all of them, but If any really resonate with me, I’ll give them a go, and of course, the person giving the prompt will be fully credited. Feel free to leave your suggestions in either PMs or comments.


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